04.Sep.13, 09:32 AM
Weyrlinghood seemed to be a state of continual exhaustion. Bathing and oiling now dominated S'cer's chores, as Quelseth seemed to be hitting a bit of a growth spurt and was constantly complaining about itchy hide. How the Weyr kept everyone in oil, well, S'cer didn't presume to know--between dragonets and the huge size of the adults, it was surely some kind of miracle.
With one hand folded in his lap and the other wrapped around an eating utensil, S'cer was, for all intents and purposes, shoveling food into his mouth. He could feel Quelseth stirring, her presence in his mind butting up against his own as she shifted in her sleep. He let out the breath he had been holding when she resumed her post-feeding nap, the knowledge that it would only be a matter of time until he was expected back making the weyrling eye the nearest batch of bubbly pies with a frank expression. Perhaps he could steal a few? But then Quelseth would want a bit of one, and no matter what he told her, she tended to pout over being denied. I guess that won't be happening.
Arddra was met with a confused look for a brief moment, followed by S'cer taking a sip of klah to wash down his mouthful of bread. He flushed red, embarrassed to be caught in a less-than-polite situation, and forced a smile "Arddra, what a surprise." A surprise indeed, he thought to himself, but instead added, "Oh, I'm doing fine. Quelseth keeps me so busy I barely have time to think." Or eat, as the case may be.
"And yourself? Still hoping for a dragon of your very own?" It was meant to be a joke, but it fell flat due to S'cer's tone--dry and just the slightest hint of sarcasm. He was glad for his little green, but that didn't automatically negate the fact that the dragon riders had stolen him away, or make him feel any better about it. It was still there, a wound he would always bear, but Quelseth made it a little more bearable with every day she was in his life. "They aren't so bad--the dragons, that is. Their riders are a bit of a mixed bag."
With one hand folded in his lap and the other wrapped around an eating utensil, S'cer was, for all intents and purposes, shoveling food into his mouth. He could feel Quelseth stirring, her presence in his mind butting up against his own as she shifted in her sleep. He let out the breath he had been holding when she resumed her post-feeding nap, the knowledge that it would only be a matter of time until he was expected back making the weyrling eye the nearest batch of bubbly pies with a frank expression. Perhaps he could steal a few? But then Quelseth would want a bit of one, and no matter what he told her, she tended to pout over being denied. I guess that won't be happening.
Arddra was met with a confused look for a brief moment, followed by S'cer taking a sip of klah to wash down his mouthful of bread. He flushed red, embarrassed to be caught in a less-than-polite situation, and forced a smile "Arddra, what a surprise." A surprise indeed, he thought to himself, but instead added, "Oh, I'm doing fine. Quelseth keeps me so busy I barely have time to think." Or eat, as the case may be.
"And yourself? Still hoping for a dragon of your very own?" It was meant to be a joke, but it fell flat due to S'cer's tone--dry and just the slightest hint of sarcasm. He was glad for his little green, but that didn't automatically negate the fact that the dragon riders had stolen him away, or make him feel any better about it. It was still there, a wound he would always bear, but Quelseth made it a little more bearable with every day she was in his life. "They aren't so bad--the dragons, that is. Their riders are a bit of a mixed bag."